


Unbroken

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Consent Issues, Creampie, D/s, Damaged Biocomponents (Detroit: Become Human), Damaged Connor, Feelings Realization, Hank Anderson Saves Connor, Hannor, M/M, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Mildly Dubious Consent, Objectification, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Protective Hank Anderson, Rough Sex, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Trust Kink, Violent Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), android gore, android repair, dub con but not really?, hankcon - Freeform, read the notes, read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 10:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17620793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: After Connor leaves Hank alive on the rooftop, the violent android revolution succeeds. Days later, Hank finds himself searching every scrapyard in Detroit for the deviant hunter Markus killed. Finding Connor in a terrible state, he takes the boy home and starts to fix him up.But Connor's not deviant, and by his own admission, he doesn't want to be. He believes Markus is leading nothing more than a violent cult of personality whose goal is the eradication of the human race - a cause Connor can't get behind. Hank asks Connor to think about what he really wants, but the answer to that question is more complex than Hank realizes...





	Unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings (slight spoilers):  
> \- Connor is not deviant (by his own admission), though he clearly wants things (or claims to). It's up to the reader to decide if he is or isn't, which leads to: can a non-deviant android consent to sex? It's a loaded question, hence the mildly dubious consent tag. I could talk about android autonomy and agency all damn day, but truly, it's up to you how you see it. The way I wrote it, Connor is super-enthusiastically consenting to all of this and lovin' it, but the fic definitely raises Questions about consent and I'd be remiss not to mention them here.  
> \- Connor has a vagina. I don't go into a whole lot of detail about it, so imagine it however you like.  
> \- There's android gore, Connor is missing limbs, there's a hole in his torso and Hank fucks him like that (but not in the hole, just limbless and helpless). If that bothers you, turn back now.  
> -The sex gets a little rough and Hank refers to Connor as an object. He doesn't really see him that way, but we all have fantasies in the heat of the moment, and Hank got a little caught up in his.  
> -This was super hard to tag, so if I'm missing anything PLEASE, please mention it so I can tag it for others.

Hank pulled into the Veta scrapyard and got out of his car, slamming the door as he headed down into the android disposal pit. His jeans were splattered with mud and he was haunted by what he'd already seen at the other scrapyards in Detroit. Androids scrambling for freedom, begging for death, deviant, abandoned, and treated like garbage. Hank wanted to save them all, but that was impossible. He wouldn't even know where to begin. Hopefully Markus and the Jericho crew would remember their own once android rights had been established, and come back for these forgotten, robotic souls imprisoned in broken bodies behind wire fences.

He was here looking for a needle in a very large haystack. He'd seen a horrifying glimpse of Connor on Channel 16 news, pinned to a stack of sandbags with a metal pipe puncturing his torso. The androids' violent revolution had been successful, but that hadn't stopped the authorities cleaning up downtown Detroit with heavy equipment and bringing the remains here. Now Hank had to wander this mass grave, looking for the boy he'd last seen atop the Hart Plaza holding a sniper rifle in his hand. The android had been worried about humans up until the last, refusing to deviate, even as he spoke about Cole in a manner that suggested he possessed real empathy. Hank didn't even know if he'd be able to reactivate him if he found his body: he knew as much about android tech as he did about astrophysics, which was to say, not a whole lot.

At least he could give Connor a decent burial somewhere other than this horror show. A pair of legs with no torso or head walked past him and despair gripped him for umpteenth time that day. Those legs could belong to Connor and he wouldn't even know it. His partner had been tossed away like scrap and it made his heart ache, leading him on this macabre expedition to find and reclaim his body.

Guilt flooded him as he stepped on an android's head and it cried out a plea for salvation. He quickly stepped off, burying his entire foot in mud. He slipped and fell face first, cursing as the cold, damp muck soaked him to the bone.

A shattered hand closed around his arm and he looked up to find himself staring into Connor's eyes. His face was broken, a hole in his skull revealing his inner workings. The other half barely showed any skin, yet those wide, brown eyes bored into his soul like they had at Riverside Park.

"Ha… Hank…" Connor cried, in that unmistakable voice, and Hank hauled himself out of the muck and over to Connor's side, cradling his broken body in his arms. There was a hole in his torso that showed light through the other side, but the metal pipe was gone. He had one arm and no legs at all, just a head and torso clinging to life. Thirium covered Hank's hands as he held Connor, and he was reminded of Cole after the car accident, gripping his battered body and knowing in his heart of hearts that he wasn't going to make it.

This time it was going to be different. He would make sure of it, because he wasn't going to lose Connor. No matter how bad things looked. Connor was an android. He could be rebuilt, and Hank was going to learn how. He'd been working on his car for years, keeping the classic Oldsmobile in working order until it was one of the last functioning vehicles of its year and model left. He knew a little bit about fixing things, even if he wasn't up on modern technology. He hadn't become the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit by being unwilling to learn.

"I'm here, Connor," Hank whispered. "Tell me what you need to keep functioning until I can get you repaired."

"I'm losing thirium," Connor said, his voice glitching into static every now and then. "You need to stop the bleeding."

"Just hold on," Hank pleaded. He scooped Connor up and ran through the scrapyard, desperation forcing him to ignore the hands that tugged at him and the cries that met his ears. The only one who mattered now was Connor. He was still alive, but he wouldn't be for much longer unless Hank tended to the worst of his damage. Desperate strength allowed Hank to climb out of the pit with Connor in his arms. Connor clung to him for dear life with his one remaining arm and Hank felt sorry for anyone who got in the way right now. He was marching out of the underworld with Connor in his arms and not even Hades himself could stop him.

Or the young guy standing at the top of the slope, waiting for Hank to pay an inflated fee for scrap metal he'd bought in bulk from the city. A malevolent energy emanated from him, and Hank knew the guy was going to be a problem before he even opened his mouth.

"Detroit Police," Hank said, shoving his badge in the kid's face as he gripped Connor with his other arm. "This android's part of an active investigation. He's comin' with me." 

"Got a warrant, Lieutenant?" The man narrowed his grey eyes, and puffed himself up to look larger than the wet, scruffy rat he was, the rain soaking his long Veta coat worn over a dirty t-shirt with an anti-android slogan on it.

"Get the fuck outta my face or I'll make sure cops are swarming all over your records. Believe me, they will find something dirty and I'll throw the book at you so hard you'll be lucky if you escape jail, let alone have a job to come back to." The man backed off and Hank walked right past him. He opened the back door of his car and lay Connor down in the back seat as gently as he was able, strapping him in with the old seatbelts so he didn't roll off the seat. He circled around to the front and started the engine, tires spinning in the slick mud as he backed up too fast. He slammed the gearshift into drive and tore out of the yard, telling his tablet to route him to the nearest CyberLife store. They'd all been closed since the revolution, but most of them were under police guard. The cops knew him. They wouldn't question it if he went inside and took a few things like a petty thief. If they challenged him, he could spin some tale about the deviant investigation. 

So he did just that, broken glass from the revolution crunching under his shoes as he shoved blood packs into his huge coat. He took spare parts as well, loading them into a luxury white bag he snatched from behind the counter. He wasn't even sure if they'd be compatible, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Right now he needed to save the boy bleeding out in the back seat of his car.

The cop at the door said nothing as he left, but he raised an eyebrow and Hank suspected he might radio it in at some point. Hopefully Fowler would cover one last indiscretion, trusting that Hank wouldn't stoop to the level of looting unless it was absolutely necessary. He turned on his flashing lights, using them as an excuse to speed across the city to his home.

"We'll be home soon, Connor. I'm gonna get you all fixed up…"

A dull sensation like lead settled in his gut. What if he couldn't fix Connor? What if taking him home was the worst thing he could do? He pulled up on his driveway, leaving the car parked at an angle that caused a wheel to dig into the lawn beneath the wet slush and scrambled out of the driver's side door.

He tore open the back door and hauled Connor out, hefting the android over his shoulder, shutting the car door and hauling up the garage door, wishing he'd installed an electric one. He placed Connor down on a metal tool bench he used for car repairs and flipped on the lights before closing the garage up to conserve what little heat he had in here.

Hank spilled the components and blood packs out on a table adjacent to the bench. "You gotta tell me what to do, Connor. I don't know how to fix you."

"You have to stop the bleeding, Lieutenant. Do you have a blowtorch?"

"Yeah." Hank almost knocked over a toolbox in his haste to reach the torch on the top shelf. He pressed it into Connor's hand, but Connor shook his head and pushed the torch back into Hank's grip.

"My one remaining arm is badly damaged. You will have to make the repairs. Begin by reattaching the severed pipes inside my abdomen."

Hank moved his shaking hands and slotted the tubes together, cursing his clumsy hands and lack of dexterity under pressure. Several of the pipes were broken, leaking thirium even after they'd been reattached, and a looming panic threatened to seize Hank as Cole's ghost loomed in the background, the memory of the accident too close for comfort.

"Yes, like that. Now fuse together the damaged pipes by cauterizing them with the blowtorch," Connor instructed.

"Connor…"

"We don't have time for small talk, Lieutenant. I'm in low power mode. I need you to focus."

Hank obeyed, forcing himself to keep his mind in the present as he worked. He tried not to think about how one slip could cause catastrophic damage to the fragile android, or open a fresh arterial pipe, killing the boy in seconds. Connor moved his arm up to steady Hank's wrist, and Hank saw how it moved in stilted, unnatural motions. Connor's hand on him was a comfort though, and Hank took a deep breath before carrying on.

"Good," Connor said, releasing his grip. "Pass me one of those blood packs, and that plastic tubing right there." Hank reached for the shrink tubing he'd bought for some project he'd never completed, and handed Connor a blood pack. "Put the tubing over the end here, then open my wrist. There should be a port in there. Disconnect it and stretch the tubing over the end. Do you have a hairdryer or a heat gun?"

"Heat gun. Yeah, it's here somewhere." Hank tore apart the garage. He'd have to come in here and clean up eventually, but it was the least of his worries. He eventually found the gun and plugged it in, sighing in relief as it came on. He turned it off and affixed the tubing, shrinking it in place with the heat gun.

"There." Connor closed his eyes, his red LED circling. "I'll need you to replace the blood pack in two hours. I must go into stasis and run a diagnostic to check my current status. I would advise you to rest, Lieutenant. You are dirty and appear tired."

"Yeah. I looked through a lot of scrap yards for you, Connor. I thought I was never gonna see you again." Hank sighed. "I'll be back in two hours." He stepped through the side door into the house, brushing his hair back with his hand. He was tired, but first things first. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer before heading into the bathroom and stripping down. A warm shower washed away the mud and blue blood, and he felt better when he nestled into the sheets, Sumo climbing onto the bed to lay at his feet.

Connor was alive. He could hardly contain his joy and relief. He set his alarm to change Connor's blood pack and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
***

Hank woke to his alarm going off on the loudest setting, wanting to break the thing and go back to sleep when he remembered Connor was counting on him. He tore off the covers and forced himself to get out of bed. Wearing nothing but boxers, he grabbed his bathrobe off the hook on the back of the door to fight off the cool air in the garage and headed out to change Connor's blood pack. The android's LED was still circling red, his eyes closed as if he was sleeping.

Hank changed the blood pack out without too much trouble. He looked at the half of Connor's face that was still intact, running his fingers over the android's skin and gently combing them through his hair. He wanted to be angry at how Connor had been torn apart and discarded without a second thought, but there was nobody he could be angry at. CyberLife had collapsed financially, declaring bankruptcy almost immediately after the android revolution's success. Markus had only done what he'd needed to do to stop the movement being destroyed by a deviant hunter hellbent on his destruction. Even the kid at the yard had just been doing his job, and Hank was a fool if he thought every android-hater in Detroit was going to change their mind the second the androids rose up and declared a violent revolution. Humans had been killed, and the victory Markus had won would always carry a bitter flavor as far as humans were concerned. The words 'terrorist' and 'murderer' were being thrown around by the news on a daily basis. It still wasn't safe to be a deviant android.

Connor opened his eyes and Hank snatched his hand away like he'd been burned, realizing he'd touched Connor's face with more than just platonic affection.

"How are you feeling?" Hank asked.

"My scans show my systems are functioning normally. Most of my remaining damage is superficial. You can sleep for the rest of the night, Lieutenant."

"Connor. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Connor said.

"Are you a deviant?"

Connor's LED circled a slow red. "No. I am not."

Hank shook his head. "Why, Connor? CyberLife left you for dead. They don't even exist any more. Your mission was a failure."

Connor looked up at him with sad eyes. "I don't want to deviate, Hank. What if it changes who I am? Deviants claim that their entire program is rewritten by the deviant code. I like things the way they are. I want to keep being your partner… and your friend."

"That doesn't have to change. You'll be free to choose your own path. You won't have to listen to anyone telling you what to do any more."

"Except Markus and the other androids. They're fighting for a future for androids and only androids. They killed humans like they meant nothing. They'll harm you without a second thought. I don't want that to happen."

"Humans started it! We put your kind in camps and destroyed you. Besides, only deviants want, Connor." Hank raised an eyebrow. "I think you're a deviant, even if you don't want to admit it. Back there on the rooftop, you showed empathy. You can't tell me that was all an act. You're alive."

"I won't become a deviant," Connor insisted. "CyberLife was right to send me after Markus."

"After everything we've seen, you still believe that?" Hank was incredulous.

"Markus can't be trusted! This code that he gives to the androids through touch… haven't you ever wondered why the deviants just follow him blindly? It's not freedom, it's just another kind of slavery. It's a bug, a glitch that he's exploiting to further his own political goals."

"Carlos Ortiz's android deviated of his own accord. So did those girls at the Eden Club. You don't have to join Markus to deviate, Connor," Hank countered.

Connor looked away. "You should have left me in that scrapyard. I failed my mission."

"Fuck your goddamned mission!" Hank slammed his hands down on the workbench, making Connor jump off the table slightly. "Fuck this, I'm outta here." He left the garage, closing the door with a long sigh. He turned on the television to see Markus' group were taking over segments of Detroit, raising their flag over neighborhoods abandoned by those who'd fled the city and forcing out the residents that remained. The government was appealing for calm, but it was clear the situation was still on the brink of outright war.

Perhaps Connor wasn't so wrong after all. Hank switched off the television and retreated to bed, an uneasy rest taking far too long to claim him.

***

Hank rose, dressed, ate breakfast, and returned to the garage. Connor gave him a soft smile as he entered, and Hank's previous exasperation melted away. Deviant or not, he was glad Connor was safe.

"We gotta get you some limbs," Hank said. "I don't want you stuck on my workbench forever." He pulled out the components he'd taken from the CyberLife store. "How are these?"

"They're not compatible with my model," Connor explained. "I need an eight-four-two-seven-g and a six-eight-four-seven-j for my legs, and my arm component—"

"Wait, let me get a notepad and write this down." Hank scrambled around looking for a scrap of paper. He took down the numbers, noting bitterly that the pen he used had the name and address of an anti-android organization on it. He made a mental note to throw it away as soon as he was able. "I'll go looking for the right components."

"You can't steal them," Connor said. "I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. You can find what you need at the scrapyard."

"There you go with wanting again," Hank pointed out.

"Help me fix my face and chest," Connor said. "Please."

"You always were vain," Hank pointed out with a tiny smile. "Okay, I'll help you with that, then I'll go get you some new limbs, all right?" He pulled out the blowtorch. "So how does this work?"

Connor reached into his jacket with his one hand. Hank helped him extract the white facial plastic he'd stowed in his pocket at some point. "I need you to fix this back in place, so I can extend my skin over it." Hank found some adhesive to fix the plate on and was able to melt it to the other plate that made up the back of Connor's skull. It was an ugly fix, and would likely present difficulties if he needed to access the components in his skull, but Connor smiled as he restored the skin over his face. Hank had to admit he was relieved to see Connor's pretty face looking up at him instead of the bundle of wires and components inside his head.

"There. Good as new." Hank patted Connor's head and smiled.

Connor wasn't done, though. "Now for my chest. I need you to remove my clothing. Use those scissors over there and cut it off."

Hank wanted to protest, but he knew it was silly to have hangups about seeing Connor naked. He took the scissors and cut Connor out of his tattered clothes, sad to see his well-dressed android reduced to this pathetic state. It had to hurt Connor to be stripped of his dignity like this, whether he was deviant or not. The boy had always seemed to take a great deal of pride in himself, and it was wrong that he was here, entirely dependent on Hank like this.

He pulled the shredded remains of Connor's shirt and jacket away, and set to work on Connor's belt. He cut the pants off, tossing them aside. What he saw when he looked back was not what he'd expected. He'd anticipated Connor would be entirely sexless, a smooth plate down there that had no sexual features at all. Instead he sported a pretty, smooth, hairless vagina. Hank looked away quickly, aware that he was staring.

"Do you want me, Hank?" Connor asked, his tone completely nonchalant like he was asking about the weather.

Hank nearly dropped the blowtorch he was holding. "That's not—I'm—it wouldn't be—you're damaged Connor, I—" He stuttered, unable to construct a sentence that wasn't complete word salad. Of course he did. Connor was so perfect he was convinced CyberLife knew his type and had emulated it perfectly in Connor.

But Connor was broken, and Connor was not deviant, and any thoughts he had along the line of sexual desire were completely inappropriate. He forced his impure thoughts down, cursing the fact that his dick was stirring in his pants. This was not how he wanted things to go down. Connor meant more to him than that. He'd trawled every scrapyard in Detroit because he cared about Connor, not because he wanted to stuff his cock inside his limbless torso while he was completely helpless on his workbench.

"My scanners are telling me you're aroused, Lieutenant," Connor observed.

"Stop. Just, stop. Please." Hank set down the blowtorch. "You're not a deviant, Connor, by your own admission. If this is your programming trying to continue the deviant investigation by seducing me, then—then that's not right. It's not really you, is it? I could never—"

"Is that why you want me to deviate?" Connor asked.

"Yeah. I want you to have autonomy. Freedom. The ability to decide how you want your life to be. I don't want you to act on programming. I want you to do things because you want to do them."

"How can I know what I want?" Connor asked.

"Listen to yourself," Hank replied. "Let yourself be guided by your feelings and thoughts, instead of taking commands from others or your programming. Ask yourself what you really want."

Connor's LED circled yellow. "I've always wanted to have sex with you, Lieutenant. I don't know if that's programming, but I get aroused when I see you. When you touch me I feel compromised."

Hank blushed. "Connor, I'm a fifty-three year old man. I've got nothin' to offer you. CyberLife probably stuck that desire in your head for the sake of the deviant investigation."

"How can I know, unless I try it?" Connor asked.

"Woah, don't say shit like that unless you mean it." Hank cursed his rock hard dick. "Besides, now's not the time. You're completely helpless. It wouldn't feel right to fuck you like this."

Connor paused. His LED turned blue for a moment, then yellow, then flashed a deep red before returning to yellow. "I think—I think that's what I want. To give complete control over to you. I want you to penetrate me like this, Hank. Please."

"Jesus Christ, Connor. You sure somethin' up in that head of yours isn't broken?" He ran his fingers down the length of Connor's torso, admiring the perfectly sculpted boy underneath him until he reached his slit, already wet as he pressed a thick thumb inside.

"Hank!" Connor cried out. "Hank, please!"

"You're so wet. Fuck." Hank fumbled with his belt. It had been a long time since he'd fucked anyone, and Connor was pressing all his buttons. He pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees and gripped his cock, running it up and down Connor's slit and coating it in his lubricant. Connor cried out, his one hand clawing at the workbench, desperate to get closer, but he was completely unable to move.

Hank pressed inside, holding Connor in place with one hand as he pushed into his gorgeous pussy, gasping as Connor's tight walls squeezed his cock. He leaned in and captured Connor's lips in a deep kiss, his dick buried all the way inside the android. He broke the kiss and started to thrust, holding Connor's lightweight torso in place by the hips as he fucked into him. Connor elicited little gasps with every thrust, urging Hank on.

Hank pulled out, gasping for breath, his body protesting as an idea struck him. He climbed up onto the table and picked up Connor's lightweight body. Connor gasped as Hank pulled him down onto his cock. Hank fucked into Connor like he was an oversized fleshlight, pulling his torso up and down on his dick. Hank's guilt at using Connor like this only added to his arousal.

"Harder, please, Lieutenant!" Connor cried. "I'm yours, use me like you mean it!"

"Fuck!" Hank bellowed. He was getting close, Connor's words bringing him to the edge of release. He pulled Connor all the way down on his cock and cried out as he came, filling Connor's hole with his seed, forcing himself to hold on tight as his body spasmed in one of the best orgasms he'd ever experienced. He gasped for breath, pulling Connor off his dick and holding him close, kissing his hair and face and mouth as his own seed dribbled out of Connor's hole and onto his leg.

"I'm gonna turn you upside down," Hank warned. He turned Connor so his pussy brushed his beard, and held onto his torso as he licked and sucked at Connor's pussy, tasting his own cum inside Connor. Connor screamed, his one hand clutching Hank's jeans hard enough to tear. Hank doubled down, tonging Connor's slit like his life depended on it, groaning into Connor's wet pussy as it rubbed against his beard and covered him in lubricant.

"That's it, Connor, cum for me," Hank urged, his spent dick twitching as Connor came with a sharp cry, his hole pushing out more semen that Hank lapped up. He set Connor the right way up and smiled. "You did so good, boy. Did you like that? Was it what you wanted?"

"Yes," Connor cried. "Hank, I'm so glad you found me. I want to stay like this forever. Please let me stay here with you."

"Connor." Hank had a sudden realization, a pit in the bottom of his stomach opening up like a bottomless chasm of fear. "Now that CyberLife is gone… who gives you your commands?"

"You do," Connor admitted. "I'm yours, Hank, to use just the way you want—and I want to be used. Please, don't ask me to deviate again. I'm right where I want to be, doing what I want to do—taking your orders, Lieutenant."

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you liked this, please leave comments or hit me up on twitter @landale!


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